This is a collection of poetry written by a woman of Africa to express what her innermost feelings are. Her feelings, experiences, visions and thoughts about things going on around her,things that are sometimes kept inside. Poetry is healing. Poetry has it's own life and spirit
Sunday, April 13, 2008
THE DEER HUNT (Aboakyre Festival in Winneba, Ghana)
Superiority
THE WARRIOR
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
IF I COULD FLY
Behind Closed Doors
OVERSEAS
"When you grow up you should do well
and then you could go overseas."
What is this overseas that we hear so much about?
Those who come from there seem to have so much money to spend,
they buy cars and build houses,
but, in the end, do they tell the truth about this overseas?
From morning to night, if you are lucky,
you get to work like a stupid monkey,
you are at their beck and call,
afraid of losing that bad job at all,
because the next one would be harder to get
because your skin is not the right shade, or your
words don't sound right or you just don't fit.
No time to rest, no time to play,
no time to see your children,
no time
no money to send, but you do it anyway,
after all what would your friends and family say?
You are lucky, You have a permit,
hell is for those who don't,
dodging police, and sleeping on friend's floors,
when there are guests around you are sent outdoors.
Finding all means to marry a woman to stay,
a woman who will make hell a better place to be.
After many years when you finally get settled,
someone dear to you dies over the seas from where you came,
you take a bank loan; make the trip, and come back home,
and the cycle starts again.
They think you are rich, you pay the bills,
you smile and laugh but you know the
hell you will go back to when the plane lands
overseas.
The bills are waiting for you,
the debt collector is on your door,
a delayed plane means no job.
You owe more than when you came
and yet people here look with envy.
When you fly away on a plane,
to the place of their dreams…..
overseas.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The Old Tin Roof
The rain fell hard on the old tin roof
And sounded like pearls dropping on a glass table.
The sound was muffled and deep,
The air was heavy and damp, warming the room,
Through the window the sun's rays came in at an angle
Leaving warmth upon our feet.
As I lay on the bed, my eyes scanned the room,
How can that precious moment end so soon?
You lay by my side watching me,
A smile formed across your face as our eyes met,
No words were spoken but we both knew what happened to me
Certainly happened to you.
You weren't tender or slow,
The passion brought on an unexpected glow,
Your thighs entwined with mine,
Covered in sweat,
It was as though we had just met.
The rhythms of your moves made me feel the groove
The grip of your arms made me feel so safe,
The kiss of your lips on my cheek made me feel high,
The caresses of your fingers on my thighs- oh my,
Nothing, not even the rain on the old tin roof,
Could stop that moment when time stood still,
©MTD
SWAY
Sway, Sway,
The movement the young girls made when going down the street,
Their cloth tied around their waists could not hide the beauty of the movement and swaying of their hips, and juggling of young breasts.
The shape of their bodies, the outline of their waist beads,
Youthful as they came, young, immature and fresh.
Sway, Sway.
Their chests heaved up and down in unison with their walking, with their laughter with their singing.
Sweat glistened on their exposed skin giving them a glossy look.
They were girls in their prime.
Suddenly they stopped.
A beautiful full-bodied woman came towards them.
She was very curvaceous; her breasts hung lower, her hips broader,
Her stomach was much rounder, but there was something about her movement that was different.
Her waist was thicker with ripples and mounds,
Her arms fuller and her back firmer.
She was a woman in her prime.
Who could beat that?
The girls look on as she passed by and said to themselves
"One day we will be like her."
The envy showed in their eyes as the proud woman went by,
Balancing her goods on her head.
She was the most sought after woman in the village,
Widowed two years ago she had mourned deeply and now blossomed as the dark
clothes were removed from her.
She had confidence, knowledge, wisdom and the experience of love,
pain and loss.
She could weather all storms that came her way,
But right now she just lived for herself and loved her family.
When she walked by there was something erotic about her.
That was the mystery about her that got the young girls staring,
The young men anxious and the old men nodding their heads
as the beautiful woman passed by
Swaying, Swaying.
©Mariska Araba Taylor-Darko 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
The Wedding
The families sat in a circle
His to one side, hers to the other
This was the day she made a husband of my brother.
The elders sat in anticipation while our Father gave his speech
Our proud mother looked around her
While the young ones sat at her feet.
Words of wisdom came from around
The dowry was passed around
The groom sat twisting his hand
Worried, in case there would be a change of plan.
The elders nodded with approval
At the things set out on the table.
Bring her in they said
And we all turned our heads
To look at the girl who took my brothers love
The game to break the ice started,
She came in with her head and face covered
Her friend and sister behind her
Their faces covered too
Is this the one you want to wed
Pointing to the friend instead
No said my brother,
They pointed to her sister too
Is this the one you want to marry
No said my brother,
Pointing to the bride they said
Is this the one you what to wed
Yes my elders, my brother said.
He takes a step towards his queen
Lifts the veil and his face beams
The real bride is here, this is my wife to be
He pulls her close for all to see
We now accept your proposition,
Our families have made their investigations
Will you accept this man today?
She blushed and turned to them to say
It is my wish dear fathers of mine
To be the wife of this kind man.
Rings were exchanged
Libation poured
Gifts exchanged
And the crowd roared.
Dondoo dondoo dondoo
Aware so aware so aware so
They sat together with their parents
Not knowing what the future holds
Music played
People danced
This was the beginning of their trip
Into the unknown world
©Mariska Araba Taylor-Darko 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
I Smile
I want to dedicate this poem to someone not here today……….
When I hear the crickets in the night, and see the twinkling of the stars,
When I feel the breeze on my cheeks and in my hair
I smile
The leaves rustle gently, the distant sound of a car going fast down the lane, the sudden quietness for a moment
Makes me smile
I hear the drumbeat far away
A group of dancers probably at play,
The tears filling the eyes quickly blinked away,
I smile
Your love is eternal,
It never faded away,
I still feel it in me
Every minute of the day.
I stare into the distance
See the mist on the hill darkened by shadows of trees,
Swaying in the gentle breeze
And I smile
Your touch kept me going
Your moves kept me in the groove
Your smell kept me intoxicated
That is why I still smile
©MTD
Africa
Silver from Ghana
Adinkra Symbol
"Sankofa" Go back for it!!


